DX01: SINGULARITY 32992

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shattered remnants of a thousand different mirrors scatter across the uneven, dusty floor of a dimly lit antique shop. Uh, the air's thick and musty, filled with the scent of aged books and a hint of smoke, while the flicker of a lone, oil-burning lantern dances across cobweb-covered vases and ancient taxidermy specimens. A perfectly intact, century-old Fabergé egg somehow rests atop a wobbly, three-legged stool, emitting a faint hum that seems to harmonize with the barely audible ticking of an invisible clock. Outside, the sky seems a deep, foreboding indigo, as if night has fallen in the middle of the day.